Now He Knows
by PrincessMidna90
Summary: This is the follow-up to If He Only Knew. The assassins confess to their feelings for their special someone. How will they deal with it? ShaunDes, AltMal, EzioLeo, EzioYusuf and ClayDes.
1. ShaunDes

Now He Knows – ShaunDes

And so Desmond stood in front of Shaun and poured out his heart's content; how he felt for him, what he thought of him...

"Shaun, I can't go on like this. It's too much. I have to tell you."  
Desmond took a deep breath. "I love you, Shaun. I have loved you for a very long time, yet it seems such a short time. I've been paining, yearning, hoping for you, and I have wanted you for so long. I've learned from the mistakes of Altaïr and Yusuf, and I can't bring myself to repeat their mistakes. You mean too much to me, you matter too much.  
"When I was in the Animus, and later in the Blackroom with Sixteen, I thought so much about you, and I was afraid I'd lose you. I was afraid I'd end up like Clay, and that you would never know. I was scared because I thought I would end up without the capability of letting you know how I feel and that I would just end up having those thoughts and feelings locked up in my head."

Then he apologized to the Brit, before turning his back on him.

"I'm sorry," Desmond said as he covered his mouth, shocked over what he had just confessed to. He had to get away.

And now he knows.

Desmond walked away…

Then he felt the softer, paler hand of the historian grab his own calloused one and spin him around. Before he could comprehend what was going on, before he could even start to think about what he saw in Shaun's eyes the mere second he saw them, the historian's lips were on his. They were soft and warm and everything he'd even wanted.  
He was utterly lost in Shaun.

Shaun was just as lost in Desmond as Desmond was in him. He had wanted for so long to feel those lips against his own, and now he couldn't believe he finally did it.  
The feeling of the scarred lips against his own was the best feeling he could ever recall, and so much better than he ever dared hope for.  
The tongue sneaking past his lips, battling for dominance, mapping out the inside of his mouth, tasted better than he had ever dreamt of; he'd give up his beloved tea if he could just taste Desmond like this every day.  
The scarred lips that moved to suck on his earlobe before moving to his jawline, leaving a wet trail of saliva in its wake, was something he never wanted to clean off.  
And when Desmond's hands moved down to start unbuckling his belt and undoing his trousers, Shaun helped him, before removing his sweater and shirt; his glasses miraculously still staying on, though askew.

Desmond did not mind that at all; he only found it more attractive. Seeing Shaun come undone in front of him; naked, a trail of saliva on his jawline and glasses askew; Desmond would forever treasure that moment.  
But he would not dwell on it now; that he would save for later. Right now he had the historian all to himself, and he would enjoy every moment of it.

He let his calloused hands run over Shaun's smooth, pale chest, which was hairless, apart from a trail leading down to his cock. He let his hands slide around to the back, sneaking them inside the Brit's boxers before cupping his ass and ripping said underwear apart. Wasting no time, he took Shaun's cock into his hand, making his gasp.

Shaun had to wonder how he would survive the shagging, if Desmond's hand was any indication. God, how perfectly tight he would feel around Shaun's cock... Because of course Shaun would be the fucker, not the fuckee - even though Desmond's physically stronger - there was no way Shaun would let Desmond shag him, not just yet. He would enjoy shagging him, because he - unlike Desmond - actually knew what he was doing. And being their first time together, he refused to let it be ruined by some clumsy, dim-witted American, even if he loved said dim-witted American.  
Which he would have to tell soon - Desmond had confessed his love after all - because he didn't think that this act would let the ex-bartender fully understand the debts of his feeling.

They were soon lost in the heat and passion of the moment.  
Tongues battled for dominance, clothes were strewn everywhere and limbs tangled together as they fell down to the floor.  
Jaws, nipples and collarbones were bitten, suckled and licked, fingers tangled in hair and hips thrusted.  
Heavy pants mingled with moans and whispered names were the only sounds to fill the air.

Shaun's hands scraped down Desmond's back, leaving red marks in their wake.  
Then Desmond began kissing his way down Shaun's chest and stomach.  
He reached the start of the trail of hairs.  
He reached the hips.  
He reached the cock.  
And when he reached the cock, he licked it from base to head, following the vein.

Shaun arched his back and tried his best not to thrust up.  
It was even harder to resist when Desmond took him into his mouth and started fondling his balls.  
Shaun had to bite his lip to keep from screaming out loud when Desmond took him as deep as he could.  
He felt that if the other man kept up what he was doing with that talented mouth of his, he wouldn't be able to last for long.

Maybe Desmond sensed that, for he stopped sucking him and moved up to kiss him again.  
They moaned in unison at their mingling tastes.  
Then Shaun flipped them over, so that he was on top this time.  
This time it was Shaun's back that got red marks on them.

Knowing they couldn't go on like that, Shaun managed to get up and dragged Desmond with him into his bedroom.  
He pushed Desmond down on the bed, ordered him to get on all fours, got lube and condoms out from his drawer and climbed back into bed.  
Wasting no time, Shaun put on the condom and started lubing up his fingers so he could prepare Desmond.

Nothing could prepare Desmond for the feeling of having fingers stuck up his ass.  
It didn't hurt, but it wasn't pleasant either. It was just really strange to have something up there.  
Shaun began scissoring his fingers, and then added a third one.

Desmond felt Shaun remove his fingers, and he felt and unexplainable loss.  
It didn't last long though, for Desmond soon felt Shaun's cock at his entrance.  
Inch by inch it entered him, until Shaun was buried inside him to the hilt.  
They stayed like that, until the burning sensation inside Desmond had faded enough for him to tolerate it.

He moved back against Shaun, signaling that he was ready.  
Shaun wasted no time, so he pulled almost all the way out, before burying his cock into that tight heat again and again and again.  
Barely keeping himself together enough to form a rhythm, he thrusted harder and faster.  
Before long, he hit Desmond's prostate, making the man under him whimper and moan.  
"Shaun!" was the sound within the moan.

So Shaun reached around Desmond and started fisting his cock in time with the thrusting.  
Neither man would hold on for much longer, and Shaun wanted Desmond to come first, so he sped up the rhythm of the thrusting and fisting.

Desmond could feel the heat in his stomach and knew he was seconds away from release.  
Then Shaun hit his prostate just right, and Desmond came, shouting Shaun's name as the cum spurted from his cock and his ass clamped around Shaun's cock.

Shaun felt Desmond's tight little hole clamp down around his cock, and when he heard the other man shout his name, he came himself.  
Shaun screamed out Desmond's name mixed with swears and curses as his hips stuttered and he collapsed on top of the other man.

Hours and hours later, when they were thoroughly sated - for the time being, they lay in each other's arms, just reveling in the marvel of having another person there.  
Kisses were shared, hopes and dreams were shared and underneath it all was the unspoken hope that they would share those dreams and hopes together.

As they drifted closer and closer to sleep, Desmond could hear Shaun talk to him, telling him of his feelings.

"About what you said before Desmond, I… I love you too. I don't know when I realized it, it just dawned on me one day that you meant so much more to me than I could ever imagine. I used to watch you when you were in the Animus; I used to be confused when I looked at you. In the beginning, I disliked you purely because you were so special, but it was without reason, and it was because I was, in a way, jealous of you, even though I love my job.  
"Then, I started to have feelings for you, and I became conflicted. I found I couldn't resist it any longer, and I gave in and accepted that I loved you, and I had also accepted that there would be no hope for us, for how could you care for me when I had been nothing but mean and ignorant towards you?" Shaun took a breath and continued.  
"I wholeheartedly regret my behavior towards you, and I will continue to make things right to make up for it.  
"Not for my own sake, but because I love you and you matter, you really mean so much to me Desmond, you have no idea."

As they fell asleep, they held onto each other as if they feared the other person would slip away forever if they let go for even a split second.

The last thought they both had before they fell asleep was the same one.  
_ 'Now he knows.'_


	2. EzioLeo

Now He Knows – Ezio/Leonardo

Ezio and Leonardo would waste years upon years without ever knowing it. Both considered the other their oldest and dearest friend, and neither wanted to lose what they already had.

After relocating to Rome, Leonardo was employed by the Borgia family, and accepted only because he dared not to otherwise. This meant that he and Ezio could not continue to meet as they had before.

Still, they managed to meet without anyone finding out they did. That way, Leonardo could provide Ezio with weapons and information about the war machines he had to build for Cesare, and Ezio in turn made sure the plans and machines themselves were ruined.

Leonardo was a kind and compassionate person, and Ezio knew that it hurt him to build the machines which would only aid in killing even more innocent people.

So Ezio did it not only to ruin for Cesare, but he did it for the man he loved.

Both Ezio and Leo struggled with keeping their feelings to themselves.  
Neither wanted it to stay like that, yet neither wanted to drop a hint to the other is case they would find out what it meant.

But one time Ezio slipped. They were sitting on one of their benches and Leonardo had just given Ezio the climbing glove.

"Now nothing will be out of my reach," Ezio said, and thought '_except you and your love, anima mia_', finishing the sentence in his mind.

Leonardo seemed unaffected by the remark, but what was invisible on the outside was hidden inside.

'_Did he really just say that?_' Leonardo thought to himself, _'and did he really mean it the way I hope?_'

Later that day, when Leonardo was in his workshop alone, he thought back to the sentence Ezio had said, and wondered if it was a hidden meaning behind the words.  
For a moment, the artist had been convinced he'd heard a yearning in those words, but concealed so well that he was uncertain as to if it had really been there, or if it was just a wish of his own heart; a trick played on his mind.

So Leonardo pretended there was nothing unusual about the remark, and treated Ezio the same way he had done all the years they had known each other.

Years later, Leonardo revealed his secret to Ezio.  
They were on one of their benches, on a hill under some trees creating shade and privacy, when the artist told the assassin that he was working on the painting of a woman.  
He told him how fond he was becoming of it, and Ezio had teasingly replied that he wished Leonardo wouldn't get too caught up in it and let a beautiful woman distract him from helping Ezio.

It was then Leonardo slipped.  
"Do not worry, Ezio. Women provide little distraction."  
It took the inventor two seconds to realize what he had just revealed about himself, but he could not find it in himself to regret having done so.

Certain he had misunderstood the message revealed by his friend, but wanting it to be true; he pretended not to understand what it meant.

"I don't get it," he said, not daring to say what he wanted. He instantly regretted the tone of his voice, knowing what would happen next depended on his reply.

The assassin had meant to say it in a tone that was incredulous, not the way he said it in, which made it seem he did not understand what the artist meant.

He felt like he stood on the edge of a cliff, nearly suspended as he waited for the reply of the man he loved, certain he had just ruined everything.

What happened next was not anything Ezio had ever expected.

Leonardo looked around, making sure no one could see them, and then he leaned in to kiss Ezio.

Ezio froze, not daring to believe what was happening, almost believing he had simply fallen asleep on the bench and it was all a dream.

But he realized it was all real. The lips on his, which he'd imagined feeling for so many years, felt too real to simply be a wish of the heart.

So he reached his hand to cradle Leonardo's head, and he closed his eyes, deepening the kiss.

Sensing Ezio's hesitance, Leonardo was ready to pull away and apologize. His heart was already ready to break, not wanting to deal with the loss of such a dear friend.

So when Ezio responded, deepening the kiss, Leonardo was surprised.

They both broke the kiss at the same time, both needing to breathe and knowing it was dangerous to continue like this, especially out in public.

Leonardo drew a shaking breath, wondering what to say now.

Ezio beat him to it.

"I love you," he stated, and in his voice Leonardo heard relief and hope.

Looking into Ezio's eyes, Leonardo replied "I love you too." The artist's voice held certainty and it rang so true when he spoke the words that Ezio stopped breathing for a moment.

"Meet me at _La Volpe Adormentale_ tonight," Leonardo said to Ezio in a hushed voice.

As he got up to leave, Ezio could see the various emotions in his eyes; a hint of excitement, worry, yearning, and - most of all - love.

Later that night, while Ezio waited inside the thieves' headquarters, Leonardo was outside, pacing nervously.

The hours which had passed from when he left Ezio at the bench had passed painfully slow, and he had been unable to concentrate on any of his projects.

Instead, he had ended up drawing sketches of Ezio, both as the young man he had been when they first met, and as the mature man he now was.

Half an hour later, the artist stopped his pacing and finally went inside.

He instantly spotted Ezio amongst the crowd, even though he was sitting in the back room. Leonardo took a deep breath and walked over to him.

On the table there was a bottle of wine and two goblets. The bottle was already half-full, a clear indication that Leonardo was not the only one who was nervous.

Ezio was lost in thought, certain that Leonardo regretted his actions from earlier that day and had decided not to come.

So when a hand was placed on his shoulder and he heard his own name, he almost jumped up.

Instead, he turned to the source of the voice and found himself looking into the blue eyes of the person who had been on his mind for hours upon hours.

"Come," Leonardo said, taking Ezio's hand, guiding him to one of the upstairs rooms.

No words were spoken between them, but the silence was not a bad thing. It was as if the air between and around them was filled with their emotions: nervousness, affection, excitement and love.

They didn't pause at the door.

They didn't pause when they reached the bed.

They didn't pause when they started undressing.

They didn't pause until Leonardo was naked and Ezio wore only his underpants.

Ezio suddenly turned shy, not knowing how to move on from that point. He had only been with women, and seeing a naked man in front him was something so strange and yet natural that he had to stop and just look at the other man.

Sensing his hesitation, Leonardo went over to sit by the suddenly shy assassin, understanding why he stopped.

"It's okay, _amore mio_," he whispered in a comforting voice. "Take your time."

"We have wasted enough time, _luce mia_; I do not wish to waste a second longer."

When they kissed this time, it was without the hesitation and slow wonder which had filled their first one. This was filled with raw lust and need; with feelings which had grown continuously throughout the years.

They broke the kiss when they needed to breathe, and as Ezio moved to remove his last garment, Leonardo took over, wanting and needing to touch the other's skin.

When his hands moved over Ezio's hips, he felt the other man shudder.

Gently pushing Ezio back so he sat on the bed, Leonardo removed the other man's underpants and looked upon him.

Seeing the lust and love in his eyes, the artist climbed on top of Ezio, and started kissing and licking his throat, jawline and collarbones. Then he kissed his lips again, and they were lost in the heat of the moment; lost in their love for each other, and in the feel of bare skin against bare skin.

Ezio let Leonardo take control, but he wasn't participating less himself.

Kissing Leonardo turned out to be so natural, that Ezio stopped wondering how far they would go and how they would go about it. Instead, he enjoyed every kiss and touch.

When Leonardo brought their cocks together, Ezio moaned the artist's name. Amazed at how good it felt, he bucked his hips to get more friction; needing the feel of the other man's cock against his.

"Leonardo…"

"I know _vita mia_, I know."

The artist told Ezio to turn around and stand on all fours on the bed, and the assassin complied.

"This will hurt _amore_, but there is nothing I can do to help it. Just let me know when you are ready for more or if you want me to stop."

And so Leonardo wet two of his fingers with saliva before slowly pushing one into Ezio's tight hole, slowly moving it in and out. Before long, Ezio pushed back against him, and Leonardo understood that meant he was ready for more.

Pushing in another finger, he started scissoring, and added a third finger before long.

This time he took a little longer, so it would not be as uncomfortable for Ezio.

"More…" Ezio pleaded, and growled at the empty feeling when Leonardo pulled his fingers out.

When he felt Leonardo's cock at his entrance, he moved back, signalizing he was ready.

Leonardo pushed in slowly, inch by inch, though it took him great effort not to simply push into that warm heat. He could deal with a few more seconds, he thought to himself; after all, he didn't want to hurt Ezio.

When he was buried all the way, he pulled almost all the way out before moving in again and again and again, slightly faster and harder each time.

He quickly found a rhythm, and when Ezio shifted his hips, he hit him at the perfect angle.

They both cried out; Ezio because it felt so good, and Leonardo because Ezio suddenly clamped down around him.

Leonardo could feel himself getting dangerously close to release, and apparently Ezio felt the same, for he reached back for the artist's hand, guiding it down so both their hands closed around Ezio's cock.

Ezio took control, pumping their joined hands in time with the thrusts.

"So close," the assassin moaned, and started moving faster against Leonardo.

The artist felt the same, and so he bent over Ezio and turned his head around so he could kiss him. When Leonardo bit slightly down on Ezio's bottom-lip, the other man shuddered and came, crying the artist's name.

Hearing his name screamed in ecstasy from the man he loved, followed by the clenching of muscles around his cock made Leonardo follow him mere seconds later.

They collapsed on the bed, Leonardo pulling out as he lay down beside Ezio.

For a while they rested there in each other's arms, and they fell into a light sleep, only to rouse again an hour later.

They dressed, went downstairs to eat and drink and then stumbled up to the room again, undressing one other as they fell towards the bed, limbs tangled.

And all through the night, the artist showed his assassin the pleasures of being with another man.

And when they woke in the morning, they smiled at each other, happy to finally be together after so many lonely years.

They shared a brief kiss, and fell asleep again, exhausted after the previous day and night.

The last thing they saw was the love in the other's eyes, and their last thought before falling asleep was shared; '_Now he knows'._


	3. AltMal

Now He Knows – AltMal

_"Life is pain Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something"_

The life of an assassin is pain. Pain from training and fighting, pain caused by the loss of the brothers of the Order, pain from not being able to start a family without it being in constant danger from the enemies of the assassin order.

The greatest pain comes from loving someone you can't have, and seeing that person too often, yet not often enough.

Pain which is coupled with love, making it harder to cope because without the love, there would be only pain, but without the pain, there would be no love.

Malik doesn't know which is worse; to be in pain because he loves Altaïr, or to be without the love and pain, which would leave him feeling empty.

At least now he was feeling something good, something apart from the loss of his brother and arm, something so very different from the hate he used to feel towards the great Eagle of Masyaf.

Restoring the order after Altaïr had rid them of the traitor Al Mualim, had Malik and Altaïr spend more time together since the accident several months ago, yet it also had them spending much time away from each other, as Malik rode to Acre and Damascus so he could inform and sort things out with the Dai's there.

He needed to ensure their loyalty, as he expected Altaïr was to be the new Grand Master.

Malik warned them that he would not hesitate to kill them or anyone else if they went against Altaïr, and they did not doubt the threat or sincerity in the words spoken by the King of Swords.

With Malik away, Altaïr kept himself busy conversing with the members of the brotherhood.

But he was not busy enough apparently, because no matter what he was doing, who he was talking to, no matter how tired and exhausted he was, and no matter how late the hour, he found his mind was constantly focused on Malik.

He wondered what he was doing, how he was doing, when he would return to Masyaf and if he would stay there with him, or if he would go back to Jerusalem and continue being the Dai there.

If Malik chose to leave, Altaïr wouldn't stop him. He would respect it, but he wouldn't like it.

He would miss his brother, but he'd let him go, even though he knew he could rightfully order Malik to stay.

But that would break the friendship that was slowly growing between them again.

Altaïr was not, and would never be, like Al Mualim. He would give his brothers free will, but he would still make sure they lived by the Creed.

When Malik returns, they will sit down and speak with the allies and connections of the Order.

Malik is better at that than Altaïr, which is why they both decided to wait until Malik is back.

When that was over, they would go through the formalities with selecting the new Grand Master of the Order.

But until the King of Swords returns, the Eagle will continue to miss him, and vice versa.

While he is away, Malik thinks long and hard about whether or not he should tell Altaïr the truth of his feelings, but he has no hope the feelings will ever be reciprocated.

He doesn't believe he will ever get the courage to tell him or act on it anyways, so maybe he should just stop thinking about and worrying over it.

All his thoughts on the matter collapse however, when he arrives back at Masyaf in the pre-dawn hours and wanders into the chambers belonging to the Grand Master.

The rooms have been emptied and cleaned out, and the only objects in the room are the incense lamps and a mound of pillows in the middle of the room.

On top of said mound, is where he finds Altaïr deep asleep, spread eagle across it.

In the vague light, the pillows look exactly like the ones he keeps in his bureau, Malik briefly thinks.

And then the King notices how relaxed the Eagle looks like that, how at peace he looks, lost deep in sleep, which probably has been a long time coming.

The next thing he notices is the smell of the incense, which is something he has only ever smelled one other place; his bureau, for it is his own, personal mixture; sandalwood, and juniper berry and medical plants from the Himalayas.

Malik had previously used a blend called the Solomon Temple blend, but he had been unable to use it after the accident at the temple, for the smell clung to the walls and had filled his nostrils, blending with the smell of blood and dust.

The King's heart realized something then, something the rest of him won't realize until much later; that to the Eagle, the pillows and the incense equals safety and protection.

He looks to peaceful, so Malik decides to leave him to his sleep, for he knows he rarely gets the hours he needs.

The next day, Malik was summoned to Altaïrs chambers.

"Yes Grandmaster, what is it you wanted to tell me?"  
"Don't be so formal my dear friend," Altaïr responded, a hint of nervousness in his voice which made Malik wonder why he had been summoned.  
"Then tell me novice, so I might go back to the duties you gave me earlier."  
A nervous scoff came from the other man, followed by "I'll let you go back to them, if you let me say what needs to be said without interruption."

The King nodded, so the Eagle spoke.

"We've known each other for years Malik, and for years you've been my most trusted friend and companion, even through our fights, competitions and Solomon's Temple.  
"I've never properly expressed how sorry I am, not only for your sake. No, once again I'm selfish, for it drove us apart and that was for me the worst of it all. I lost someone so dear to me then, and it was not Kadar.  
"What I'm trying to say Malik, is: Do you accept my love? Can your heart make room for it?"

"No."

A simple word. But there was nothing simple about the way it was said. It was spoken like his love was something foul and disgusting, something not to ever be considered.

Malik had rejected him.  
He couldn't believe it.  
Assured the King felt the same way, the Eagle had confessed.

And became heartbroken.  
The Eagle ordered the King to leave his chambers, barely holding back tears and great sobs.  
He knew the other man would still hear him through the door, but he did not care.  
He wept, heaved for his breath and heartbreaking sounds fell from his lips.  
There was now a hole in his chest where his heart had been, and the feeling of blood running out of it.

The Eagle hoped to die, so great was his pain.  
Death would mean an escape, a way out of the pain.  
He had never thought he loved the King so greatly and deeply, but the hole in his chest was proof he did.

***

Malik was scared. It was just past midnight, and heart-breaking sounds could be heard from the rooms next to him.  
Instantly worried, he ran into the Grandmaster's chambers, sword in hand, ready to wound and kill whomever it was that made the man he loved so dearly hurt so much.

The Eagle was alone, twisting, twitching, crying on the carpeted floor.  
The King dropped to his knees by the Grandmaster's side, reaching out to grasp his hand.  
He took it and held onto it with all his strength.

"Tell me what it is _hayaati_," he said in a low voice. "Tell me what has been done to you and I will do everything I can to make it better."  
The Eagle must not have realized it was him, for he responded. Most of it was muttered and hard for him to understand, but he did make out something.  
"He broke my heart. The King broke …, refused … offer and … bruised, broken and bleeding on the floor. The one man I … loved rejected the love I offered like it was … too foul to touch."

Malik's heart broke. He was not loved by the Eagle, and the one who could have loved him had rejected it.

The cries stopped, and the words stopped.  
"Malik?"  
Eyelids fluttered, and Malik found himself looking into golden eyes which had seen too much sadness and were wet and shining with fresh tears.  
"Altaïr?" No reason to be formal, not now, here in the privacy behind locked doors.

"Why are you holding my hand?"  
"Who hurt you? Tell me the name of the man who broke your heart, my dear Eagle," Malik pleaded with him, ignoring his question.

"No one Dai, it was a bad dream; a nightmare, nothing more."  
"Tell me the truth novice. That was not just a nightmare. It was real fear, real hurt in your voice. Tell. Me. The truth!"

"You."  
The word was so softly spoken, and the Eagle had turned away, so the King was not sure if he heard him right or not.  
But when he touched Altair's face with his hand and turned it back so he could look at it - despite the slight resistance - he saw the truth.

Altair had offered him his love, and in the dream he had turned away.  
Malik stared into the deep, wet, golden pools for a second, and seeing the hurt, he bent down to capture the other's lips with his own.

Salty, quivering lips was what met his own. Lips that seemed hesitant at first, but eager and greedy enough after the initial uncertainty.  
Pulling away slightly, Malik whispered against Altaïr's lips.  
"If you think me such a fool as to deny your love, I believe I need to prove to you just how wrong you are."

Lips met again and again, breaths became laboured and eyes - which had previously shed tears of sorrow and heartache - swam over with tears of love and gratitude.

Altaïr dragged Malik down over him, pushing his hips against him to let the other man know his needs.

Malik responded with a growl and bit the Eagle's lip – not enough to draw blood, but enough to let him know he felt the same.

He hadn't needed though, as Altaïr had felt Malik's cock against his own thigh when he had pressed against him.

Even though it had been months since he lost his arm, Malik had not yet perfected taking off his own clothes, and lying on top of Altaïr, shivering with need was not helping.

So he rolled off him, and started undoing his sash. Altaïr understood he was having troubles, but did not say anything so he would not offend the other man and ruin everything.

Their need was so all-consuming, they did not proceed as slowly as either man would have liked, considering it was their first time. But neither cared, for they both hoped in their hearts and minds that this would just be the first of many times; therefor they could afford the rush now and save the slow, passionate love-making for later.

They only removed each other's pants and undergarments; there was no time for anything else. Moving to the pillows or a bed was out of question as neither man would be able to get very far from where they currently were.

Then Altaïr rolled on top of Malik and their cocks met, creating a friction neither man had ever experienced before.

Both men moaned, slightly out of breath because of the feeling.

They rocked against one another, the friction soon becoming too much as they both felt they would come if they did not stop that instant.

Somehow, they stopped it, although neither assassin knew how they did it.

Altaïr spread Malik's legs apart and quickly sucked on a couple of his fingers, before slowly pushing one finger into Malik's ass.

For Malik, the intrusion was both strange and welcomed; he had not known how much he wanted it.

Soon after, another finger followed, and Altaïr began opening him up before adding a third finger not long after.

At a wordless message from Malik, Altaïr removed his fingers, earning a small moan from the other man at the loss, but he lined up at his entrance as soon as he could.

"Malik, my King, my dear, beloved King," Altaïr whispered into the air.

"I love you, my dearest Eagle," came the whispered reply from the other.

And so Altaïr pushed into Malik, as slowly as he could, but not as fast as he would have liked.

Buried all the way, he pulled almost all the way out before moving in again and again and again, slightly faster and harder each time.

He quickly found a rhythm, and lifted up Malik's hips to bring him closer. As he did, he hit him at the perfect angle, making Malik cry out at the pleasure.

It did not take long before Malik came, and his clenching made Altaïr follow no more than a second later.

Their cries was of pleasure, mixed with words of love, swears and the name of the other man.

Altaïr did not want to remove himself from the heat, but his cock was over-sensitive he had to do it.

Both men felt to boneless to get up in order to get something to clean up with, so Altaïr curled himself around Malik.

They fell asleep like that, next to the mound of pillows, with the scent of Malik's incense and their own scents filling the room; surrounding them; becoming a part of them.

As they fell asleep, Malik thought what Altaïr whispered barely audible in the room:

"Now he knows."


	4. EzioYusuf

Now He Knows – Ezio/Yusuf

Yusuf found out about Ezio's feelings quite by accident.

It was in the early morning, and Yusuf was on his way to wake up Ezio as he needed his help on a mission. When he reached the mentor's chamber, he could hear him muttering something and got curious.

Yusuf wasn't intending to trespass on Ezio's privacy, but there was something about the sounds, something causing him to stay quiet so he could find out what they were.

Standing in the doorway, he could clearly hear what the sounds were, and he was shocked, frozen still when he heard Ezio pant out his name.

It was minutes before Yusuf was able to tear himself away from the doorway, and when he did, he started pacing the hallway, uncertain of what to do.

Ezio couldn't know he'd overheard him, he simply couldn't.

Having calmed himself – and his cock – enough, he went into the mentor's room, instantly acting as nothing had happened, calling out Ezio's name as he approached the man.

"Mentor! Time to get up, we've got a mission." Yusuf tried his hardest not let Ezio see that something was off, and started throwing Ezio's clothes at him.

"Hurry up, we need to move fast if we're to catch the Templar bastards."

The Italian didn't even ask, just put on his clothes as quickly as he could and grabbed his gear, fastening the hidden blades as they headed to the door.

As the day went on, Yusuf said nothing about what had happened that morning, and Ezio tried to figure out what it was that was bothering the other man. The Turk tried to hide it, but Ezio was a master at reading body language, so he had noticed something was off the moment he laid eyes on Yusuf that morning.

He was curious and wanted to know why. He couldn't quite remember what he had dreamt, due to the rude awakening, but he remembered Yusuf had been in it. It hadn't been one of _those_ dreams, had it? Ezio hoped not, but it could very easily be so, which would explain…

Then Ezio's thoughts caught up with his brain, and he realized why Yusuf acted as he did. He must've heard, he must've been there when Ezio was panting out the Turk's name.

Was that it? Was that the reason Yusuf was acting so forced around him?

Yusuf must have found out, and now he was probably pondering how to avoid Ezio for the res of his stay.

But Ezio wasn't the only one good at reading others. Yusuf could see that although Ezio had been devoted and focused on the mission they had completed, he had been thinking about something else, and had appeared distracted for the rest of the day.

Both men were uneasy when they went to sleep that night, and both were wondering how and if they could explain what was going on to the other man.

And while Ezio's dreams were filled with fears and longing after his lost friendship with Yusuf, the Turk's dreams were filled with hopes of a future with the Italian.

Days later, Yusuf fell asleep in the middle of the day, due to some long and late missions he had taken upon himself. He had done it in hopes of exhausting himself, and it had worked.

That was how Ezio found out about Yusuf's feeling.

Knowing Yusuf was back from his mission, Ezio stalked through the hideout in order to find Yusuf and get him to eat something. Of course, Ezio knew he needed sleep as well, but he figured he'd sleep better on a full stomach.

Not finding him in his room, Ezio prowled the other rooms, attempting to find him.

He found him not long after, asleep behind the desk Ezio used, his head cradled in his arms.

"Ezio, _aşkım__._" Now it was Ezio's time to stop in his tracks. He didn't know what it meant, but it was the emotions in the voice, the heartfelt longing that made his heart skip a beat and his breath hitch.

Ezio sat down outside of the room, his back against the wall. Although Yusuf was asleep, he felt like he was listening in on something he shouldn't. And he couldn't bring himself to stop.

Yusuf spoke in hushed, calming tones, and before long, Ezio could feel himself starting to doze off.

The last thing he heard before he well asleep was "_Seni seviyorum_, Ezio. _Seninle olmak istiyorum_."

When Yusuf woke a little while later, he found Ezio still slumped on the floor outside his room. Smiling at the relaxed posture of the Mentor, he gave himself a few seconds to admire him before shaking him awake.

After all, sleeping like that wasn't comfortable for a young man, much less so for a man Ezio's age.

Not that he'd ever say something like that.

What Ezio hadn't known was that Yusuf had said the things he had said – in Turkish – because he knew the Mentor was there.

He felt it was the only way he would get to tell him, without _actually_ telling him.

Yusuf thought himself a coward for it, but he had done what he could.

It didn't really count as a confession though, as Ezio didn't know what he had said, but he felt easier for himself, having given the words weight.

Crouched down beside Ezio, Yusuf saw the confusion in Ezio's eyes when he opened them.

"Yusuf? Where…"

"You're on the floor old man, outside my room. If I didn't know better, I would say you were a creeper…" Ezio started to stutter protests, but Yusuf just laughed.

Standing up, Yusuf offered Ezio his hand.

"Relax _Mentore_. Remember not to take everything I say so seriously."

Ezio sighed, knowing Yusuf was right. Shouldn't he have known, spending all those years with Leonardo should have taught him that.

Accepting Yusuf's hand, he got up, placed an arm around his shoulders and dragged him off in search of food.

A week went by and nothing happened. That is, until one night they had been on a mission together, one so scarring that they both decided to get drunk so they could get the images out of their minds.

They spent the evening in one of Yusuf's private hideouts with a crate of wine.

Weapons and armour had been discarded, leaving them in little more that shirts, pants and sashes, as well as headband for Yusuf's part.

Laying down on one of the many mounds of pillows, they drank straight from the bottles and exorcised the memories by talking about happy memories from days gone by.

Which was how Yusuf learned about what Leonardo really meant for Ezio, and why he enjoyed the company of Sofia so much.

It gave him hope, but he felt hurt as well. The fact that Ezio had been with a man gave him hopes that he might come to like him as more than a friend, but he also feared he liked Sofia, maybe because she reminded him so of Leonardo.

"Yusuf," Ezio, after a moment of quietness. "_Rüyalarımın__erkeğisin__. __Seninle__olmak istiyorum__._"

When Ezio turned to look at him, he could see Yusuf had turned on his side, giving him his full attention. A smile crossed the Turk's lips.

"_Ti __amo__tantissimo_, Ezio."

Then they were in each other's arms, Yusuf halfway on top of Ezio, lips and teeth clashing, biting, nipping, caressing.

Yusuf moved so he was on the top and used his right leg to spread Ezio's legs, feeling the other man's cock growing underneath the layers of fabric.

Ezio mimicked the motion, moving his own right leg up and down Yusuf's crotch, causing Yusuf to moan, before attacking Ezio's neck, licking, biting and suckling, leaving red marks on every inch of skin.

"Yusuf…" the moan that escaped the Italian's lips had the Turk move to cover his lips, drawing another moan.

The Eagle took the opportunity to flip them over so he could be on the top. As far as he knew, he had more experience than the joker, having been taught a lot by Leonardo.

"Not enough skin," Ezio muttered, and sat up so he could start undoing Yusuf's clothing, starting with the sash and headband. The leader of the branch in Istanbul rarely left his hair be free of it, and Ezio wanted to be able to run his hands through it.

Next went the shirt over his head, and his pants were thrown somewhere in the room, discarded until the next day.

Barely giving himself a second to admire the body below him, Ezio trailed his mouth down Yusuf's torso, licking and nipping at the skin, and by the time he reached his pelvis, the Turk was moaning and writhing under him. As Ezio ducked his head to swipe his tongue across Yusuf's cock, a predatory smile appeared on his lips, replaced by a moan at the taste of him.

Wasting no time, Ezio licked the shaft before taking the entire length into his mouth, deepthroating Yusuf's cock.

A long, rough moan escaped Yusuf's lips, and he tried to keep himself from thrusting up into that warm, wet heat, but it was difficult not to, especially with the suction sounds Ezio was making.

And then Yusuf made the mistake of looking down, right into Ezio's eyes. He felt captivated by the sheer force and the emotions displayed in his eyes.

Watching his cock disappearing and appearing proved to be too much, and he could feel his stomach clench, ready to shoot its load into Ezio's mouth.

But it must have shown on him somehow, because Ezio removed Yusuf's cock from his mouth with a pop and moved to remove his own clothing, putting on a show for Yusuf as he laid there on the pillows.

Ezio could _move_, and it was not helping his last ounce of self-control.

Then Ezio was on top of him again, and every inch of his body felt like it was on fire. The Italian was very fit for his age, but Yusuf didn't care about that, not when all that beautiful olive skin was pressed against him, and when Ezio started to move…

Yusuf looked so beautiful beneath him, warm and alive and needing. When his cock rubbed against Yusuf's, Ezio could see the other man visibly shudder.

Before Ezio could say or do anything, Yusuf shouted his name as he came, covering both their stomachs with semen.

Ezio had never found the other man looking more gorgeous than he did at that moment, and felt that he himself was now closer to release.

So he used some of the semen to coat himself, but as he was about to start pumping himself, he felt a hand cover his own.

Looking up, he saw Yusuf looking at him, pupils blown and eyes dark.

"Let me take care of you."

Ezio nodded and removed his hand.

Ezio had never thought Yusuf to be so skilled with his hands, but soon he could feel the heat coil in his stomach due to the ministrations of the man underneath him.

"Look at me."

An order was still an order, no matter how softly and kindly spoken, and Ezio could never resist that voice, no matter what.

So he looked Yusuf in the eyes, trying to keep them open as the orgasm shook him to the core and he almost collapsed on the Turk.

"Come here, _mi amore_."

Ezio lay down on his side, cuddling up to Yusuf as he felt the alcohol and fatigue take hold of him.

Yusuf looked over at Ezio, struggling to keep his own eyes open.

His last thought before he fell asleep was that maybe sleep talking wasn't such a bad thing after all.

The last thing he heard was Ezio saying "now he knows."


End file.
